What, me worry?

The very best part of the Hot Mix Incident from over the weekend, is that now I am not scared to give the kid ANYTHING. He‘s ALL OVER those honey-laced strawberries...... Anyway, I realize now how much this whole “solid food” thing was affecting me. Because he doesn’t do formula, I have to watch out for the iron intake and I was starting to worry about anemia. The kid wouldn’t take the “Gerber stuff” and while I would still give him the “adult stuff”, I always felt bad -- as if I was somehow projecting how much I don’t like Gerber and their nefarious corporate tactics in 3rd world countries. Anyway, I will continue to try the Gerber stuff, but refuse to worry about it. Damn. This mothering gig is HARD - there is always, ALWAYS something to fret over.

The weekend was really, really nice. X still worked every day of it, but would come home in the early afternoon. Arun is becoming very attached to him and loves it when X takes him walking around the neighborhood to see the cars. Also, it seems he knows the word “Daddy”. When I say the word, he looks around for him (he does this with “kitty”, too. “Mama”? Nope, the little ingrate - although it’s probably due to the fact that I hate talking in 3rd person like that little red fuck Elmo.).... Anyway, X has already commented on how much it is going to suck the day Arun starts to cry when he heads out the door for work.

This weekend was also pretty productive - we went to Kansas City nearly every day for something (meals, coffee, Union Station gig, Nelson Art Gallery), I started to catch up on my cache of Antique Roadshows on the DVR, I downloaded more footage of Arun then made a new DVD out of it, read some magazines, and read a book. The book, Generation Me by Jean Twenge, was absolutely fascinating. It covered the whole GenX thing (18-35 year olds) and was EXTREMELY interesting - I had a difficult time putting it down. While I would be considered a part of that generation, I am at the very low end, so there were some aspects that I certainly related to and others that I didn’t understand. I am still thinking about this book, so I will write more about it later.

I have the Wednesday Group coming over for a Germ Exchange, um Playgroup, today, so I need to tidy up - at a minimum, I should probably move the fireplace tool set.

Simian Snaps

I rarely take “sleeping” snaps these days because Nap Time is Sacred Time and you don’t mess around with THAT shit. However, we needed to be out the door to meet my friend R and her daughter K, so I took advantage of the fact that I needed to wake him anyway.

Arun bummed his first Cheerio off of K during our lunch at the Nelson. I think he got a little drunk. Maybe he can return the favor in high school when K needs to score some beer.

We went to the Celebration at the Union Station and Arun had a blast just looking at everything going on.

He started to get a little tired of the Celebrating and “insisted” we miss out on the Fireworks. Kids these days. They just suck all the Fun out of everything.

Ah, who am I kidding? Just about everything is more fun with him around. Well, except sex. Ironically. sigh

Hello, Operator? May I have the number for Child Protective Services?

Suppose your child doesn’t really care for all that Gerber stuff - you have tried various combinations of rice cereal -- plain, mixed with fruit, mixed with breastmilk. You have attempted in vain to stuff strained fruits and veggies lovingly pureed by Gerber down his protesting gullet. Wholesome things such as prunes, bananas, squash, carrots, green beans, peas and peaches were rejected in rapid succession. However, lentils? He’s all over that shit. Hummus? Check. Chicken saag? Check. Cheerios? Check. Pieces of grape? Bits of aprium? Check and Check. Specks of Indian Hot Mix? Definitely, CHECK. But wait, you say, doesn’t Indian Hot Mix have peanuts?

Blink...... Blink.....

No, I didn’t directly give him a peanut and I was only giving him the rice krispie-sized flecks of the besan flour stuff. However, Hot Mix does have peanuts in it so he was exposed to traces of it. When I realized what I had done, I thought I was going to hurl. These are days when I question whether I should really be left in charge of a gastronomically defenseless child.

Mumble much?

I am feeling like not writing a concise post. Parenthetical structure is over-rated, eh?

So, today Olathe Grandma inquired how much it cost to make copies on our home copier. I mentally fumbled around because the latent accountant in me could NOT resist the math. I finally said around half a penny which is probably an overstatement. THEN, she said “Oh, I pay 5 cents at Dillons!”. I could practically hear the wheels begin grinding into motion. So, I foresee some copying in my future because really, how can I refuse my grandma? I’ll just add this to the duties that always start with “You can get on the Internet, right?”

So, lately, I have been questioning my grandma on some of our family history - we have been in the Olathe area for a very long time and I was trying to establish who came when, where, and how. Let me note that while we have been here a long time, unfortunately, that means squat. You see, "longevity" doesn't always equal "distinguished" - my great-grandpa and his four brothers were known for being the "town drunks". While drunken moonshining is Cool History for the current generation, it's STILL Shameful Past for my grandma's. Anyway, I did find out something interesting (or at least to ME and since this blog is for me, by me and about me......) I should start by saying that Arun’s middle name was given to honor my oldest great-uncle who was like a grandfather to me. My great-uncle died nearly 6 years ago and I STILL get teary-eyed because I miss him. I just found out yesterday that my great-uncle was named after my great-great-great grandfather - this “3G” grandfather was born on the Blackbob Reservation that used to be near here (for those interested, it was where Heritage Park is now). And they had JUST moved from a reservation up north near Leavenworth. The current generation has always been curious about the whole Native American connection because it is shrouded in such secrecy. Several of the older relatives “way back when” used to vehemently deny the connection because it was shameful - keep in mind, this was the early 1900s NOT like now when it is hip and cool to be ethnic. Furthermore, I suspect many, many Americans have stories such as ours.

Anyway, this story has NO point whatsoever other than my getting a chuckle that my own little half-breed Indian was named after ANOTHER little half-breed from the mid 1800s. How fucking American is THAT?

A Desperate Housewife Stoops to Desperate Measures

I got about 5 minutes of Entertainment Mileage out of this, then I threw a toy in with him and got another 10. Enough to blow dry my hair, at least.

What am I forgetting?

Since my last male reader headed for the hills months ago, I am not going to mince words. It seems I am in possession of a uterus. Yes, I had sort of let it slip my mind. This strikes me as odd because you see, for YEARS, I was OBSESSED with my uterus. Like, would it work? Would it work RIGHT? Would it go the WHOLE 10 yards? When it turned out that yes, my uterus would do its bit for the good of the DNA Project, I was relieved. Then, I sorta forgot about the ole Ute because then I got distracted by my breasts, who also managed to step up to the plate and do THEIR job. Anyway, in short, it turns out this whole Battling the Blues bit was actually PMS.

You do the math. Cripes. Nice touch that it happened over Memorial Day, though.

Damn, he's sure worth it. Especially when he gives slurpy, slimy, tongue-laden kisses. THERE's the love.

Simian Snaps

I like that cat toys can double as baby toys. And vice versa - as evidenced by mysteriously placed toys WELL before Arun was old enough to play with them.

What's so special about this picture is that I could not have posed it better myself. He does this thing where he pushes or tosses toys ahead of him so that he can crawl/scoot after it. It's as if he is playing fetch with himself. And since I am prone to think that just about anything he does is utterly adorable........

How late is too late to build a fire in in your fireplace?

Is there a fireplace rule like “no white before Memorial day?” There are birds playing around the chimney and I’d like to show ‘em I mean BUSINESS.

This week is a little out of control - I am trying to fit a lot of things in, including THREE different trips to the vet. Pearson needs his “new n’ improved” tail checked out and Vanessa is going in for some dental stuff that was discovered last week during her checkup. The upside is that I gain some MAJOR Entertainment Mileage for Arun out of these visits. The downside is that herding a cat into a travel carrier is never, ever a fun task. Furthermore, if one more dog owner allows their dog to sniff and nudge at my injured cat’s carrier, I fear the Entertainment Mileage that would result from my kicking said owner in the balls. I wonder if THAT would scar Arun for life?

Speaking of the little twerp - he is SO FUN right now. Object Permanence AND Cause/Effect have set in. For awhile now, we have been playing what I like to call Poor Man’s Peekaboo where I look around asking “Where’s Arun?” - basically, just like Peekaboo sans the blanket. But lately, we discovered the fun to be had when you can afford the blanket and since I received no less than 24 blankets as gifts, then you can just consider Arun the luckiest little boy on the planet. Anyway, he loves to pull the blanket off of my head AND his own head. However, he can’t quite get the blanket back on his head, so burying his face in it garners a good enough result. Hilarity ensues.

Other things this week? I planted flowers last night - new for this year are zinnias and gerbera daisies - I am very excited to see how these turn out. Tonight, is the Veggie Pickup and dinner with friends at one of our favorite spots, The Blue Koi on 39th. Friday is mysteriously Free of Obligation, but I need to visit squeeze in visits to great-aunts and uncles, so I look for Friday to fill up quickly.

I still haven’t decided what to do with the Anti-Vegan Mommies from last week. I may meet with them again, but don’t think I will clear my calendar for such events. I did meet with the the Wednesday Group that I go walking with for an actual playgroup - Arun’s FIRST playgroup. It was basically a baby mosh pit and was quite fun. We’ve decided to keep Wednesday’s “as is” - that is, meeting at the hospital for the breastfeeding support stuff, then alternate Wednesdays for walking. However, we are going to schedule other days for actual playgroups now that the babies are old enough to scramble on top of each other.

Rancid Reads: I haven’t written about any reads lately because I am buried deep into John Irving’s Cider House Rules. I just ADORE Irving and have determined that I must read all of his books before I die and may well have to re-read a few (i.e. A Prayer for Owen Meany). However, his books are serious time suckers and require committment. Anyway, in the midst of reading Irving, I also read Peace Like a River by Leif Enger. I can’t even muster up the energy to bother with linking to it because I did NOT like this book. Read at your own risk. If you like overly religious-themed tomes with miracles liberally sprinkled throughout, then by all means, read this book. It just wasn’t MY cup of tea. Next up? Snow Falling on Cedars........ I am also determined to plow my way through a stack o’ magazines that have piled up that include Consumer Reports, Royalty Magazine, Knit.1, and National Geographic. Funny, how People and US Weekly never pile up.


Jack Bauer ain’t got nuthin’ on MY crime fightin' Treo.

We spent some time yesterday at Olathe Grandma’s house. Arun loves the piano and is quite fascinated by pounding the piano, then pounding the bench. As you can see, he is quite proud of his prowess at doing so.

Taken last week with the Wednesday group while out at Shawnee Mission Park (as you can see, we were so very busy WALKING.) It’s entertaining enough when your own baby is mawing away on his over-priced footwear - but when someone ELSE’S baby decides to get in on the gummin’ action? Even better.